Heads and Tails
by CaptainSwan123
Summary: A shipwreck. A rescue. A new life. And oh yeah, mermaids. Will Carter be able to adjust? Short story about mermaids and mermen. Mostly fluff, because sometimes we all need a little romance in our lives.
1. Chapter 1

This was not supposed to happen. This kind of thing happened to people in movies and books. It didn't happen in real life and certainly not to me. I was careful; I was smart. I checked the weather before I left and all the local storm radars.

And it's not like I'm a newbie. I've been out on the ocean in my dad's motor boat dozens of times before. I know what I'm doing and I know when the weather starts to turn for the worse. I've had to cut my excursions short before, because I could tell a storm was coming and I didn't want to take the chance.

So how the hell did I end up here, hanging onto a piece of the hull to stay afloat amidst the wreckage of my boat?

The storm came out of nowhere. I barely had the time to turn the boat around before the pouring rain and howling wind began to toss me around on the waves. It was unnatural, the quickness with which it advanced. The sky had been blue and relatively cloudless moments before the rain hit, just like it is now moments after the storm has passed. It just didn't make any sense.

I need to stop dwelling on how the storm formed and start thinking about what to do in its aftermath. Let's start by taking inventory of my injuries.

Just a few bumps and bruises from when I was still inside the boat, but after I went overboard I started racking up hits. I can only see the cuts on my arms, but the stinging in my legs is evidence of more than I can see. My right shoulder is in so much pain, I can't use it to hold onto my makeshift raft anymore. As I let it drop into the ocean, I can feel that it isn't hanging right. Probably dislocated.

I shift my left hand's hold on the raft, trying to compensate for the lack of an arm.

There's something warm and sticky running down my cheek and the back of my neck. I vaguely remember getting hit in the back of the head as I was tossed among the waves, but I don't recall my cheek getting sliced open.

Blood loss is going to be my biggest enemy here, then. If I lose too much blood, well… And then, of course, there's the threat of sharks. But I'm not going to panic. I know way too much about the ocean and ocean survival tips to start losing it now.

I've swam or surfed or motor boated in these oceans for as long as I can remember. Dad still calls me his little mermaid, sometimes, even though I'm nearly 20 and far too old for childhood nicknames. Regardless, this is my territory and I can do this.

I craned my head to determine the location in the sun. Based off the time on my water resistant watch- thanks, Dad- I just need to angle myself a bit to the left and start kicking. I'll either reach land soon, or die trying.

Apparently, blood loss makes me morbid.

Holding your battered and bleeding body up on a broken piece of wood while trying to kick yourself in a relatively straight line is much more difficult than it sounds. And it sounds fairly difficult. My head is starting to feel impossibly heavy and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. Every few minutes I glance back up at the sun to make sure I'm staying on the right course and almost every time I have to make corrections. Whether because of the loss of blood, exposure to sun or exhausting activity, I'm not sure, but I'm struggling to stay awake and to keep heading in the right direction.

I know if I stop I won't have the strength to start back up again, so resting is not an option. But I can't keep my head up any longer. Maybe I can just rest my cheek right here on the driftwood and keep paddling with my eyes closed. Now I'm still moving and I don't have to use any energy to keep my head up. I'll just look up in a few minutes to make sure I'm on track.

I feel myself drifting off to sleep and welcome it for a few seconds. Then panic sets in. I can't fall asleep, not here and now. Sleeping would mean dying.

I fight off the darkness that tries to envelope me in it's warmth. I lift my head up, check the sun and keep kicking, stronger than before. I need to make it closer to shore, maybe someone will see me. A lifeguard or another motor boat. Anyone.

I have no idea how far I am from shore, which way the storm pushed me or if I'm even within reach of land, but I have to keep trying.

It feels like hours have passed since I began swimming towards shore, but my watch claims it's only been 18 minutes. How much longer can I last? I already almost gave in and I haven't even been out here an hour.

Another 10 minutes pass. My head is starting to bob, my neck giving into the weight of it. My eyes blur and I have to fight to open them back up and glance at the sun. My legs are screaming at me to stop kicking, sore from the storm and extended use. I can feel the kicking slowing down. I'm weakening. And I'm cold. That's definitely the blood loss because the heat of the sun burns my scalp, but I shiver anyways.

I'm contemplating the pros and cons of laying my head back down on the wood, when I feel the ocean moving around me. Not in the same way as a storm. More like when your friend swims past you in the pool and you can feel the displacement of water they cause. But I'm not swimming with a friend and fear begins to sink in.

It gives me a sort of adrenaline rush. My head is suddenly as light as a feather and my eyes are sharp as I search the waters around me. Warmth pulses through my veins, like my blood is made of fire and although I can recognize the new strength my legs suddenly possess, I go completely still. Trying to outswim a shark is the worst idea possible. They're attracted to movement. If I remain still, it's more than likely that this terrifying threat will keep moving and find his dinner elsewhere.

Time seems to stop. I can hear every heartbeat, feel the current of the underwater swimmer circling slowly. For a moment, I think he's leaving. The circling seems to have gotten farther, rather than him closing in to attack. Then I remember blood. My blood. A trail of it behind me and a pool of it around me. Streaming out from my innumerable wounds. Sharks are also attracted to blood.

I hear a splash and turn my head just in time to see the tip of a tail disappearing under the water, a mere 5 feet from me.

My heart beats faster. I try desperately to control my breathing in an attempt to slow my heart. The faster my heart beats, the more blood I lose. The shark must smell it; his current is closer now. He's circling, again, closing in.

This is it. This is where I die. Death by shark doesn't sound too fun. I think I'll just lay my head back down and give in to the darkness. Let unconsciousness surround me and numb me from the pain of rows of pointy teeth.

I shiver. Partially in fear and partially because the warmth has left and I feel cold again. As my eyes slip closed I see a head break the surface of the water, less than a foot away. I try to open my eyes again, to see if it was real or if I was imagining things.

I want to scream. Help me! Save yourself! Thank God, another human!

It doesn't matter, because I can't get a sound out. My heart beat has finally slowed down, but it's somehow painful. Sluggish and painful. It creates a throbbing throughout my whole body. Every beat of my heart is a throbbing in my dislocated shoulder, my bleeding head, my aching legs. The darkness isn't as warm and inviting this time. It's cold and obtrusive.

It's better than razor sharp teeth, I suppose.

Something brushes against my legs and my body convulses away, adrenaline keeping me just on the brink of the darkness. I will myself to sleep, to die. I don't want to feel this. The terror or the pain.

Warmth.

A hand on my neck. My eyes open as small slits. I can't make anything out. There's a silhouette against the sunlight, but I can't make out any details. Blurry shapes and colors. The hand tracing down my neck, grazing over the exposed skin of my shoulder where my shirt was ripped.

I cry out in pain when the fingers find the dislocation. But only a small grunt comes out of my desert-dry throat.

The hand is gone. I'm disappointed. The hand was warm and gentle. And a great distraction from reality. I never knew hallucinations could feel so real.

The hand is back- thank God! Under my cheek, pulling my head up off the chunk of boat that had been my floatation device and pillow, combined. My left arms slides off the driftwood as the hand pulls my head up and suddenly my burned scalp is cool. My eyes have settled closed again and I feel relaxed. I take in a deep breath, but salt water rushes in my mouth. I begin to panic but the hand grabs me.

I break the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering to expel the water from my lungs. My throat burns and water drips into my eyes as my eyelids flutter to keep it out. It's only after a few minutes of trying to restart my respiratory system that I realize I'm no longer being held up by the piece of my boat's hull. There's an arm wrapped around my waist and I've got both my arms thrown around a set of broad shoulders as I keep my head above the waves by resting it against a solid chest.

My brain struggles to catch up with what just happened. I almost drowned.

A memory resurfaces. I'm 4 years old and I'm at the beach with my dad. Just one of hundreds of memories I have there with him, but this one sticks out. We were building a sandcastle together. He's just gone up to our beach house to fix us lunch, after telling me to stay on the sand. I wanted shells for our castle, but I knew I had to wait for him to come back outside before I could go looking for them in the water. He was taking so long, I decided to go without him. Even as a 4-year-old, I had been in the water plenty of times and knew how to swim. I waded into the surf, eyes cast to the sand below the water in search for the right shells. I made it out to waist high water and began to dive, opening my eyes against the salty water for a better look at the ocean floor. Just as I saw a pretty shell, I had to come up for air. When I went back down, I couldn't find the shell. I was angry that I had lost it and thought if I was a mermaid, I wouldn't have to come up for air. I could stay under and find the prettiest shells. I wished with all my might that I was a mermaid and then went under to test my theory. I remember the same panic settling in and in the chaos I couldn't remember which way was up. I began thrashing around, but then a hand grabbed me and pulled me up. The same coughing experience and burning sensation in the back of my throat. When I could breathe normally again, my dad was angry.

"Why did you leave the beach? What the hell were you doing out here, Carter?" He had bellowed, as he carried me out of the water.

"I'm a mermaid, daddy," was my feeble reply, prompting the now familiar nickname.

I shake my head to get rid of my thoughts. Now is not the time to dwell on the past, but to figure out what just happened. Where is the shark? And how did this guy find me? Was he on a boat? Did I make it close to shore?

These questions rush through my brain as I slowly pull my head away from his firm chest. I glance up to meet green eyes that rival even Jensen Ackles in their beauty. The sun that had shaded him from my view earlier, now highlights the blonde strands in his mostly light brown hair. His full lips and high cheekbones, framed by a square jaw, do their best to distract me. They succeed for a moment or two.

But eventually I stop gaping at him and start to glance around. In just a few seconds I discover these few facts. There is no boat in sight. Neither is there land. And this man is holding a giant golden looking fork. Like I'm talking King Triton's fucking _trident_.

Great, so now I'm lost at sea with a freak who thinks he's the king of the oceans, on top of being circled by a shark. Oh, and now I don't even have my driftwood to hold on to, anymore, thanks to Poseidon over here.

"What are you doing swimming this far out at sea?" A deep, accented voice asks.

I glance up at the male model holding me afloat and sarcastically reply, "I'm a mermaid." My voice is hoarse from disuse and inhaling saltwater.

His eyes light up at that, but then he squints at me suspiciously, "Where's your tail?"

"I traded it for legs," I say with an eye roll. My lack of voice must interfere with my sarcasm, because he looks curious. Intrigued, almost. I continue, "There was a sea witch and some singing."

"Ah, so then you've seen her recently?" He asks, his eyebrows dipping in determination. "Point me in the right direction."

My head is feeling heavy again and I can't deal with this guy's idiocy right now. I'm still bleeding out and the adrenaline rush is leaving me, again. I'm feeling drowsier by the second.

"Look, I'd love to sit here and play along all day," my words are beginning to slur together and I'm fighting against gravity to keep my head up and my eyes on his. "I'm kinda bleeding out though. So whenever you'd like to continue with this rescue, that would be great with me."

"Rescue?" My neck can no longer hold the weight of my head. It starts to fall forward, but before my chin hits my chest, the arm around my waist pulls me closer so my forehead rests against his shoulder. "Are you in need of assistance?"

I attempt to laugh, but all I manage is a huff.

"No, I just like to bleed out on my days off," I mumble. "How did you find me anyways?"

"I saw you trying to swim. You must be adjusting to your new legs, because you weren't going very fast," he says, matter of fact.

"God," I breathe out. Anger courses through me giving me enough strength to practically yell, "I'm dying, for God's sakes, that's why I can't swim fast. Now stop being an asshole and get us to shore so I can go to a hospital."

My breathing quickens with my anger and I can feel it becoming shallow. Too shallow. I'm hyperventilating. This dick finds me dying in the middle of the ocean and messes with my head until I bleed out. Is that the end of my story?

"I don't understand, you said you were a mermaid," he responds, sounding genuinely confused. I have no more strength to argue with him. My body is going limp. I feel the darkness, again. It's still cold and I still try to fight it, but it's useless. I feel it wrapped around my waist, where the man's arm was. Now it's dragging me down, tugging me down to my death.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing I register is voices. Scratch that, a voice. And the sound of waves breaking. Crashing against rocks, maybe?

Then there's the cool ocean, lapping against my upper thighs. It feels as though my legs are in the water, but I can't feel them. They seem to be numb. Coarse sand under my arms and torso, but there's something wet and sort of spongey under my head. Moss or seaweed, perhaps?

The voice, again. _His_ voice. He's close, but talking low. It sounds like he's in front of me, in the ocean still.

I'm not dead.

My head lifts up and my eyes spring open at the realization, but I quickly close them again, throwing a hand up to shade them from the bright sun. I try again, more cautious this time. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the light and then slowly focus on the hand in front of my eyes. It's covered with sand, but the blood and the scrapes are gone. Besides the sand and the freckles, my whole hand and arm are completely flawless. Not even a hair.

I try to lift my other hand to inspect it, as well, but yelp as a stab of pain reminds me that my shoulder is dislocated.

I can hear the sound of water being displaced and look up to see the guy who saved me is wading towards me in the water. He stops at about waist-high water with his stupid trident in his hand, but calls out, "You're awake."

I let my head flop back down, use my good hand to cover my eyes and groan.

"No shit, Sherlock," I mutter softly to myself. I take a few seconds to breathe and try to dispel any irritation. After all, this guy somehow managed to get me to land. "Yes, I am," I call out, in a slightly strangled voice.

I prop myself up on my good arm and glance around the beach I'm on. It's small. There aren't any humans, but I locate the rocks I heard the waves crashing on and grant myself a small smile of pride at my deduction skills. But my smile fades quickly when I realize why the beach is so small. There's somewhat of a jungle behind me and in a few places I can see through the trees to the ocean behind them.

"Where are we? Is this an island?" My voice sounds accusatory even to me, but I can't help it. What kind of a rescue ends up with you on a desert island with no food or water?

"Yes, it was the closest land and you couldn't swim," he responds, casually. I glance over at him and his eyes say he's a bit more irritated than his voice lets on.

 _He's_ irritated with _me?_ The guy who wanted to play pretend while I was dying and then "saved" me by marooning me on an island. The guy who is still _in the water_. Who didn't even get me all the way out of the water, before jumping back in to play mermaid, or whatever the hell he's doing out there. _He's_ mad at _me_.

I do my best to push myself into a sitting position with just my left arm before attempting to scoot away from the water's edge. I know I can't stand, yet, because my legs still feel numb. Probably from all that kicking. But I don't want to stay halfway in the water anymore. I want to start to dry off so I can find some food and shelter and begin to plan my way back home.

As soon as I start scooting out of the water, my legs begin to warm up. He must have gotten us farther north, because the water doesn't get this cold off the California coast. There's a notable difference now in the temperature of the upper and lower parts of my legs. The part below my knees are in the water and my upper thighs are starting to get hot.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says lowly.

I'm too shocked by the skin of my upper thighs turning a bright red to respond to his thinly veiled threat. What is this? Is he gonna kill me? Did he save me, just to bring me here to his island and kill me?

My thighs are downright burning now, their color brighter than my worst sunburn. It feels like someone lit my legs on fire, it's so unbearably hot. Without a second thought, I scoot right back into the gentle waves, letting the coolness of the water erase the heat. I watch through the crystal clear waters as the red disappears from my skin. Within seconds, my legs are numb again. Now I'm sitting mostly in the surf, where the small waves roll in over my lap at about belly-button height.

Without realizing it, I've pushed myself closer to my possibly psychotic hero.

"You need to stay in the water," he tells me, as he swims closer to me. He's only a few feet away. Surely, he can stand by now, but he stays hunkered down where the water reaches his shoulders, the trident horizontal in his grip.

"I don't want to stay in the water," I retort. I don't feel the pout until I hear the whining in my voice. I clear my throat and glance away at the sun setting in the horizon. "I want to go home."

"You can't," is his reply.

My breath catches and I whip my gaze over to his. Fear grips me once more, but his eyes look sympathetic and sad.

"What are you talking about?" I breathe out, slowly backing away towards the shore once more. It might have hurt before, but I'll just have to deal with it. He's still a few feet away. I can get a head start and run towards the trees behind me. Maybe climb one. Or find a few coconuts to throw at him. He might not even get out of the water, since he's such a freak about it.

"It's a long story, but if you keep backing away, you're just going to cause yourself more pain," he sounds like he's genuinely worried about my personal health. That would make sense if he wanted to kill me himself and not see me die of my wounds.

That reminds me of my arm, clear of injury. I lift my good hand to the back of my head, but I can't feel blood or a bump. It doesn't even hurt. I glance down at my legs and they're flawless, as well. No scrapes, not even the scab from a shaving incident a few nights ago. And again, no hair.

"What the hell, is going on?" I demand of him, glancing up at him with a fire in my gaze. "Who are you? Where are we? And what happened to me? Why am I not bleeding anymore?"

He chuckles softly and asks, "You wish you were still bleeding?"

"Of course not, asshole!" I yell. "And that doesn't answer any of my questions."

He takes in a deep breath and nods. "Like I said, it's a long story. So no interruptions, got it?"

I open my mouth to respond, but he shakes his head. "No interruptions, that's the deal," he says. I reluctantly nod my head. "Good, now where to start."

"How about the beginning?" I suggest sarcastically, with an eye roll. He glares at me and I shrug my good shoulder, "Fine, no interruptions."

"I am Lukianos, son of Triton, son of Poseidon, god of the Sea," his shoulders straighten and he holds his head high with a sense of pride.

"And I'm Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain," I retort. "Cut the bullshit, I want the truth."

He glowers at me, "That is the truth and if I were you, I'd show some respect. I command the waves and the tide. I rule over merfolk and fish, alike. You have no idea how powerful I am," he bellows, his trident now vertical again, pointing up at the darkening storm clouds above us. He continues, "I found you dying and I have given you a new life. I have given you time for shock and adjustment, but now you need to stop being so disrespectful and ungrateful. Your sharp tongue does you no good here. Now sit still and keep your mouth shut while I finish talking."

A very small part of me is offended by his words. Another small part is ashamed of the way I have been acting when he was the one who saved me. But mostly, I'm in awe by the power and authority in his voice. And slightly intimidated.

"Good," he says, as if I had verbally agreed. He doesn't necessarily shrink, per se, but he assumes a much more casual body language than the towering, powerful one he had recently taken on. The dark storm clouds suddenly dissolve into a clear blue sky. "Like I said, I'm Lukianos, I am a descendent of Poseidon and therefore, I am a god of the Sea. Do not be frightened," his voice is much gentler now as he nears me. "I wish only to show you something so you can understand."

I watch the muscles in his forearms as he pulls himself closer to me, using one hand and the bottom end of the trident to make his way across the ocean floor. I finally realize why he was so low in the waves. He's dragging his legs in the sand, for some reason. They must be tangled in seaweed, because the clear water allows me to see that they look green from this far away.

As he gets closer, it doesn't seem like there's any seaweed on him. Maybe he has some kind of disease that made his legs turn this weirdly bright green color. That's the only logical explanation.

I look back up at the horizon where the sky and the ocean seem to dissipate into one another, refusing to look at this man and his weird, green legs. I don't want to see whatever he wants to show me.

"I want to go home," I repeat, this time quiet and broken.

He hesitates for a second and I can see in my peripheral that he's only about an arm's length away now. He doesn't reply. Instead, he settles himself in the surf next to me. I still refuse to look at him. I'm mesmerized by the sun slowly setting and creating a gentle purple hue along the horizon. The purple fades into a reddish orange which lightens to yellow as it nears the sun and the sky above that is blue. I've seen a million sunsets over the ocean, yet somehow this one is much more beautiful than any I can recall.

Am I about to die, is that why I'm reveling in the beauty before me more than usual? Or is it because of my recent near-death experience?

The man clearing his throat next to me, shakes me out of my thoughts, "You're going to have to look at some point. You can't just ignore this new life."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," I respond. My voice sounds monotone because my focus is still on the deepening purple stretch where the sky hit the water. "You keep talking about some new life. You're not trying to tell me you're Jesus, are you?"

I snort at my own comment, but he just sighs. The water droplets that hit my cheek and arm make me think he's shaking his head, as well. I don't glance over to check my theory.

"Just look at me, it'll make more sense," he answers, in a pleading voice.

I give a small shake of my own head. My hair is clumped together in damp chunks, like that one time in junior high when I tried to make it into dreadlocks, and it whacks my shoulders a few times before settling on my back once more. The shake isn't a refusal, it's in disbelief. How could looking at him answer all my questions? I'd looked at him before in the ocean. Was he trying to hypnotize me with those bright green eyes so he can force me to live out whatever weird fantasy he has that involves a gold trident and a desert island?

I suck in a large breath to calm my nerves and strengthen my resolve. Then I glance over at him.

He's sitting next to me, the arm closest to me is resting in the sand behind him so he's somewhat facing me. His eyes lock with mine the second I turn, but I quickly divert them. His face is the same as before, but drier. His hair is also drying and I can tell that it was the water that had made it look light brown before. Here, in the sun with it mostly dry, I can tell that he's a blonde. A few still wet strands are sticking to his forehead, but the rest of his short hair is sticking up in a tussled and ruggedly handsome looking way. I want to hate him for his good looks.

The sun glints off his trident and blinds me for a second, until I shift my head. He's still got it in his grip, but it's laying horizontally in the sand next to him, the pointed part facing towards the ocean. And towards his…tail?

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to get the image out of my mind and then try to look at his legs once more. It's no use. There are no legs to look at. His finely toned torso disappears into a green, scaly tail.

Is he wearing one of those mermaid tails that people sell on etsy? It's so real looking, like his skin actually turns into the scales.

I lean closer to find stitching or a gap between his skin and the costume. It's excellent craftsmanship, I can't see anything. I reach out slowly with my good hand to tug at the top of the tail, but before I can touch it his hand grabs my wrist.

"What are you doing?" His voice is rough and low. Scary.

I slowly lift my chin up to make eye contact, worried that if I move too quickly he'll get angry. I clear my throat once, "I just wanted to see how the tail was made."

He releases my wrist and my hand falls into the water with a slap and a splash. Then he actually laughs.

"What do you mean, how the tail was made? It's made of scales! What would you think if I asked you how your legs were made?" He asks with a smile. Is he… teasing me?

"Well, that's ridiculous because my legs are real. They weren't made, they were born," I shoot back.

"Exactly," he lifts an eyebrow and smiles smugly.

"What do you mean, exactly? That makes no sense, your tail wasn't born. Someone had to make it. Unless," I stop talking for a second and look between his eyes cautiously for any sign that he's getting angry with my words. He still looks smug and a bit amused. I continue, "Unless you think you're a real mermaid."

"Merman, actually," he scoffs with an eye roll.

"Oh my God," I breathe, looking at his tail, then his face and then back. "You think you're a _merman_."

In my peripheral I can see the hand on his trident tighten and there's a bit of annoyance in his voice when he says, "I don't _think_ , I _know._ "

I look up at his eyes. He's certain. He is absolutely, without-a-doubt certain that he is a merman.

"And you're about to become a mermaid."


	3. Chapter 3

It's difficult to catch my breath and I'm having trouble seeing clearly. My balance is off and I can feel myself rocking back and forth. His words are having a definite effect on me.

I can't stop laughing.

I manage to finally calm myself and glance over at him as I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. He looks astonished, his mouth open and gaping, like the fish he claims to rule.

That sends me off again. Another bout of laughter has me doubled over, my good arm wrapped around my waist in a lame attempt to ease my aching abs. Whoever claims laughing isn't a workout, hasn't had a real laugh-attack.

"I fail to see what's so funny," the 'merman' grunts as I fight to contain my amusement, but only manage to downsize to a grin. "Do you find transforming into a creature of the sea to be that comical?"

"Comical is one of the many words I'd use to describe your insistence that I'm going to be a mermaid," I snort. "I'd also call it crazy, ridiculous, impossible. Among others."

Both of his eyebrows lift and I can see understanding dawn on him, "Ah. So you don't believe that I'm telling the truth. Well, that certainly explains your reaction. If you don't believe me, look at your legs. Or to be more precise, look at the transformation your legs are undergoing."

Another chuckle slips out at his words, but I acquiesce to his request. I glance down at my legs and gasp. They're turning the same bright red color that had burned so badly when I was trying to get out of the water. But my breathing evens out again when I realize I'm not feeling any pain.

Curious, I cautiously move my good hand towards my leg. The skin isn't smooth like it's hairlessness suggests. Instead, it's coarse like sand and where my fingertips brush it begins to itch. I scratch the small area and am met with the unpleasant feeling of dead skin gathering under my fingernails.

"What the hell?" I exclaim, bringing my fingers up to look under the nails. Sure enough, there's dead skin wedged under them, like when your face is dry and you can scrape the dead bits off. But why would my legs be peeling like this? Unless the red is actually a sunburn and it's damaged my skin so terribly it's already peeling. But then, where is the pain?

I look over at the man next to me, my eyebrows furrowed. It's difficult to get something out from under your nails when your shoulder is dislocated and it hurts to move your arm.

"You haven't even noticed the most important part," he reproaches, shaking his head at me.

My eyebrows fly up at the audacity of such sass, "More important than my skin flaking off?"

"I'd say so, yes. But I suppose it's a judgment call," he relents, shrugging one shoulder casually. I feel all of my frustration peek into my most successful death glare, until he finally gives in. "Your legs are fusing together."

I roll my eyes once more, something I seem to do a lot in the presence of this freak. Without glancing down, I move my legs a few inches apart. I'm clever enough to realize that he might be using a line to make me voluntarily put myself in a vulnerable position and I'm not going to let that happen. I maintain eye contact, so I see when he glances down at my legs and back up to me with a smirk.

Confused at his reaction, I also glance down at my legs. And I'm frozen. I could have sworn I shifted my legs apart. I try again, while starring at them. They don't move. They remain tightly pressed together without any effort on my part.

"What the hell?" I whisper to myself. I wiggle my toes and roll my ankles successfully, but my legs will not separate.

Frustrated, I try to lift just my left leg and end up falling into the man's side as both legs come up as one unit and thoroughly throw off my balance. I hurry to right myself. My eyes instantly search for some answer to be found on my legs, but they're momentarily covered by sand that's been dispelled by my movement.

"Holy sh-" as the sand settles back down, I'm shocked by the sight of my legs. The sand has rubbed more of my dead skin away, but there isn't normal skin beneath it. It's bright red, like the color my skin was, but this isn't skin. It's…scales?

"How interesting," the man besides me muses. "I've never seen a human turn before. I wonder if your skin became red because of the tail color beneath it, or if they're unrelated. Say, for instance, your tail was to be blue. Would your skin have turned bright blue? Or perhaps just a bluish tint, like humans' lips do in the cold? Or would it be the same bright red and the color has nothing to do with the tail, but more the burning of the flesh?"

"Burning flesh, what the _fuck_?" I shout, ignoring the burning in my right shoulder as I use both hands to scoot away from him.

"Calm down, nobody's flesh is burning," he soothes, holding up his empty hand in a gesture of peace. When I stop moving he shrugs again and continues, "At least, not anymore. Now sit still and let the rest of the transformation take place. You're almost done. All artificial scrapes and bruises have already been patched up, hence the lack of bleeding. Don't worry about your shoulder, it'll heal soon enough and you won't even suffer the soreness that is typical in humans after such an injury. Your body is making itself more hydrodynamic, which is why your body hair has disappeared. You've already seen that your legs have fused together and that your skin is dying and peeling to reveal scales. In a few minutes, your feet will elongate and morph into the fin at the end of your tail. Then we'll take some sand and rub the rest of the dead skin off. Within the next, oh, 10 to 15 minutes we'll be on our way home."

"Oh, thank god," I breathe out. I only half-paid attention to his rambling, but one thing definitely stuck out. "I get to go home."

"Well, not exactly," he reaches up to scratch the back of his head with that stupid trident. "We're going back to Atlantica, my palace in the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not going to lie to you, it's going to be quite a long swim. Days, perhaps weeks, since you're a new mermaid and you'll have to learn to get used to your tail. But I know a few places we can rest and I'm an excellent scavenger. Ah! That's a great first lesson in Merfolk Culture; Merfolk are what you humans call 'vegetarians.' We don't eat our fellow creatures of the sea, we live in harmony with them. Some Merfolk even keep smaller sea creatures such as fish, crabs, starfish and so on, as their…oh, what's the human word for it. Pets? Is that correct?"

"Sure," I say slowly, trying to process his words. My mind is a bit preoccupied with attempting to wake myself up from this strangely vivid dream. There's no way any of this is real. The man next to me has a tail and my skin is peeling away to reveal one of my own. Mermaids aren't real, that's a fact. Isn't it? Something else crosses my mind, "Hey, how do you know so much about humans anyways?"

His eyes flicker between mine, probably trying to distinguish if I'm aware I verbally inferred that he isn't a human. He finally looks towards the horizon with a gentle smile on his face and I'm certain he thinks I'm convinced. In reality, I'm hoping to catch him in a lie. If this was real life and mermaids actually existed- and that's a really big _if_ \- then there would be no way for them to know so much about humans. How could they observe us without being seen? Especially with today's technology. So this must be a dream and I've found a small crack in the story that I'm going to use to blow it wide open.

"My grandfather's a god, remember?" He answers. "My father is a demi-god and my mother is an Oceanid, an Ocean Nymph, which makes me a demi-god as well." He shakes his head with a small chuckle and then meets my gaze, "Not only do I have powers that would allow me to disguise myself on land to observe humanity, but I also have divine ancestors who know all and have passed their knowledge on to me."

I sigh and roll my eyes, glaring at the horizon, "I guess that's a pretty good answer. Looks like I'll have to resort to old fashioned methods."

With that said, I pinch my arm as hard as I can. Nothing changes. Well, I guess I'll have to try harder. This time I use nails, making sure to dig into my skin until my eyes start watering with the pain.

"Nothing?" I ask, enraged.

"What are you doing to yourself?" The man asks, sounding completely bewildered.

"I'm waking myself up," I answer in a tone that makes it sound obvious. "Or attempting to."

"That's ridiculous," he laughs loudly. He has a melodic laugh and it makes me want to punch him, because I'm trying my best to hate this weird man in my weird dream, but my subconscious brain is making him far too attractive for hate. "And useless, might I point out. You're not dreaming."

"Oh yeah? Watch this," I challenge and then throw myself sideways at him, making sure to angle my dislocated shoulder so all the weight will land on it and the pain will wake me up.

Instead, my shoulder makes solid contact with his side and I feel it click back into place. There's a flash of pain that starts as a fire in my shoulder and then radiates down my arm. I cry out, unable to move and desperately wishing to be home.

"I really wish you wouldn't have done that," a voice next to my ear says.

I realize then that I haven't moved. I'm leaning into his side, my forehead resting in the crook of his neck. I roughly shove off him, so hard that I almost fall to my other side, but I catch myself.

"That makes two of us," I mutter darkly, using my good arm to gently massage my shoulder. The pain is disappearing faster than I expected and within a few seconds, my fingers no longer create a soreness wherever they touch. I try rotating my shoulder and it feels brand new, "What the hell?"

"Ah, I'm assuming that means your shoulder is all healed?" He poses it like a question, but his eyes show he doesn't need an answer, he already knows. "Now, then, how about we see to your new tail?"

"Wait," I cry out, awkwardly twisting my fused legs away from his outstretched hand. "This doesn't make any sense. I haven't woken up, yet. _Why_ haven't I woken up, yet?"

He must hear the desperation in my voice, because his face turns sympathetic. The hand he had reached out to my legs gets diverted to rest on my newly-healed shoulder.

"It's like I've been trying to tell you; this isn't a dream. This is real. I'm a merman and I've turned you into a mermaid," he explains. His voice is low and gentle. Compassionate.

"It's real?" My voice sounds tiny. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. "But why? Why did you do this to me?"

"You were dying. The shore was another hour and a half's swim away and that's without trying to carry you above water. You wouldn't have made it. And I couldn't just leave you there," his voice is quiet and he's looking into my eyes with such an intensity, I have to look away. I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears welling up.

"So, instead you stole my life," I continue for him. My voice breaks and a tear finds its way down my cheek, but I quickly brush it away. Then I sigh, "I'm sorry, that's not fair."

"I understand," is all he responds.

We sit there quietly for a few seconds. He takes his hand off my shoulder. I stare at the horizon as the sun continues its descent. The sky is no longer happy shades of blue melting into light purple. There's a sliver of yellow where the sun peeks its head for one last goodbye before the moon begins its reign, but the rest of the sky is black. I sit there silent as the sun dips out of view. My last day as a human is gone. And with it, my life.

I won't be able to watch another sunset while sipping milkshakes with my friends on the beach. I won't be able to surf with my dad smiling proudly from the sand. I'll never hug my father again. He's my only family and I'll never be with him again, from this day on. He already lost Mom to the ocean when I was just a baby and now he's going to lose me to it, too.

I let the tears flow freely and silently down my face for a few more minutes. Then, when there's absolutely no light left from the sun in the sky, I wipe my eyes and push the emotions down. I have a new life to lead now, for better or for worse. I've mourned the end of my human life, but now it's time to start the beginning of my mermaid life. There's no use dwelling on negatives when I can't change them.

"Okay," I mutter, my voice nasally from the crying. "Now what?"

"Now we head back to Atlantis," he answers, kindly not mentioning my emotional moment. "But first, let's see your new tail. Do me a favor, will you, and don't touch this," he cautions, setting his trident in the sand so the three prongs point into the air and the hilt is stuck in the sand.

I see him fill his hands with sand and then he looks up at me with a question in his eye. I realize that he's asking permission to do what he mentioned earlier, rub my legs with the sand. I nod hesitantly.

It kind of feels like a massage with one of those lotions that has exfoliating beads in it. His hands disappear in a cloud of floating sand and dead skin. I glance up at the night sky, trying to locate the few constellations I know. I manage to spot Gemini, but that's the only one.

"All done," he exclaims. I look down into his eyes that seem to be shining with excitement. For a moment, I'm overcome with fear. Then I suck in a deep breath and look down.

I have a tail. An actual mermaid tail. It's a coral-red color. And it seems to be noticeably shorter than his, which momentarily bums me out.

I bend down a bit to get a closer look at it. Up close, I can see the individual scales and now I can tell that each one is a different color, which gives the whole tail a shimmering quality, like the color itself is shifting. There are scales in varying colors of the red spectrum, from pink to crimson.

It isn't like _The Little Mermaid_ where my skin is separated from the tail by a definite straight line in a little ruffle of sorts. Instead, the scales start off as pale pink, an almost fleshy color, right below my belly button and slowly transition to darker colors. It ends in a lighter pink fin, that much be at least a foot and a half wide.

"It's beautiful," I say breathily.

I hear a small chuckle next to me, "Yes, it is. Why don't you try it out?"

"Oh, okay," I acquiesce. I sit there for a few seconds, merely blinking. Then I with a bit of confusion in my voice, I ask, "So, how do I go about doing that, exactly?"

This earns me another chuckle. I look over to see him smiling at me, "How about we start with a little flick? Just the fins."

I try to comply, but my tail does a weird rolling thing and I end up dousing both of us in salt water. I groan. He laughs.

"It's okay, we have time," he comforts. "And speaking of that, we're going to be spending a lot of time together, so I might as well know your name."

"Oh, right," I laugh at the oversight. "Carter. Carter Matthews."

He holds his right hand out to me and I place my own small hand in his much larger one. "It's a pleasure to meet you Carter Matthews. Now, let's teach you how to swim."


	4. Chapter 4

"Sorry," I mutter for what's probably the hundredth time, as I bump into Lukianos once again. Swimming in a straight line with a brand new mermaid tail is impossible. Or at least, it is for me. I keep swimming into Lukianos every hundred yards or so, as if we were walking together and I was a stumbling drunk.

"I've already told you, it's perfectly fine. You're just getting your- what's the human phrase? Sea legs?" It was strange at first, but about an hour later I've gotten used to the way noise travels underwater.

Lukianos told me that part of my transformation included the changing of my inner ear, so I could register sound underwater. His voice sounded the same as it did out of water, but it was slightly muted, yet somehow surround-sound. Like his voice was coming at me from all directions, like I was hearing him in my head.

Another part of the transformation are my newfound gills and the formation of a thin membrane that stopped water from entering my mouth when my lips were parted, but allowed sound to come out. I couldn't feel the membrane when I tried touching it with my finger, an awkward action that sent Lukianos into literally bubbling laughter. He had said it was more of a magical force than a physical thing I could touch and who was I to question him, after the whole mermaid thing turned out to be true?

"Very funny," I snort. A trail of air bubbles tickle across my cheek from the action and I scrunch up my nose at the unpleasant consequence of one of my daily actions. There are a lot of new things to get used to.

"Anyway, it's your turn," he reminds me, swimming closer to me to nudge one of his broad shoulders against my more delicate one. I know he means it as a teasing gesture, but it throws my balance off and I struggle for a few moments to correct my direction, matching it with his.

I shoot him a playful glare that he answers with a smile and a shrug. I stop myself from sighing- I learned the hard way that those bubbles are much larger and more disturbing-feeling than the small bubbles from snorting. "I still don't know why you find this game so fascinating. Typically only human children play it."

"You're the one who suggested it in the first place," he points out. "Plus, it's new to me. And much more interesting than swimming for weeks without talking."

"Fine," I sigh and then flinch as the bubbles trail down my chin and neck, then separate to slide across either side of my chest and up my sides, searching for the surface above me. "I spy with my little eye something that is… green."

"Oh, good one," he praises, a wide smile on his face as he searches the ocean around us. He's more into this game than I thought he would be when I first suggested it to break the silence. He isn't very good at it either, forfeiting almost every round after 10, sometimes 15 minutes of guessing incorrectly.

I try to follow his gaze. I haven't fully gotten used to the beauty of the deeper ocean, but I'm not floored by it like I was at first. We had to stop for a while for me to explore the ocean floor where corals, small fish, sea anemones and the like, were flourishing. Lukianos was amused by how enthralled I was with it all. Even now, with seaweed, coral reefs and schools of brightly colored fish all around us, I'm still very aware of how lucky I am to be witnessing nature's beauty in the sea, where most humans never get to venture.

"Is it that seaweed bunch over there?" He asks eagerly, pointing to our left.

"Nope," I say with a smug smile.

"How about that school of wrasses over there?"

"School of what?" I ask.

"Wrasses. There," he points ahead of us and a bit to our right, but there are clusters of colored fish everywhere and I can't tell which one he's pointing at. He glances over and must see the confusion on my face. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him so that we're no longer swimming horizontally, but floating vertically. The mermaid equivalent of standing, I suppose. Lukianos uses his trident to point towards some fish and I watch in awe as a shimmering gold line streams out of the trident and towards a particular school of fish. It forms a bubble around a school of green fish- the wrasses.

I'm amazed. The magic bubble doesn't enclose the fish; it moves with them, not inhibiting them in any way. They seem unaware of it, or at least unencumbered by it.

"Oh my god," I breathe. I trace the shimmering gold back to the trident which seems to radiate light. It dims and I look back to see the bubble is gone.

I look up at Lukianos, amazed.

He's looking back and forth between my eyes, like he's trying to read my expression and make some kind of decision. Like back on the beach, when I asked him how he knew about humans.

"Luke, that was incredible," I rave.

He stays quiet, but he's still holding my hand.

Suddenly, he's tugging me forward by my hand, swimming again.

"So, was it the school of wrasses?" He asks, as he casually lets go of my hand.

Was he bothered by the new nickname? I shake my head to regain focus. "Oh, right. No, no not them."

We continue with the game, but I'm only half focused on it. What was he thinking about, when he was searching my eyes? What was he looking for? And did he find it, whatever it was?

After a while, he once again gives in, "Okay, I surrender. What did you spy with your little eye that was green?"

I smile at his defeat. "Your tail."

He groans in disappointment and I laugh, victorious. He looks over at me and smiles slowly.

"My turn. I spy with my little eye something that is beautiful," he says confidently.

"Luke," I complain. "That's not how this works. Beauty is subjective, you have to use colors. It's the rules."

"Fine," he allows. "I spy with my little eye something that is green…" his eyes linger on my green ones for a few seconds as he holds out the last word. Then he looks down at my tail, "and red…and blonde," he finishes, looking up at my hair.

Play it cool, Carter. A literal Greek god just called you beautiful, but it's no big deal. He's totally out of your league in every sense of the term, but it's whatever. Just maintain your chill. Don't be that girl in TV shows and books that blows things out of proportion and has this big long monologue with herself in her thoughts where she talks herself up into asking the guy out and misses the opportunity, because she's too wrapped up in- Oh my god, you're doing it. You're having the monologue-thoughts right now. Stop thinking to yourself and respond to him, already!

Before I can say anything, Lukianos grabs my arm and brings us to a stand still. I glance over at him, about to ask what's wrong, but he signals for me to stay quiet. With a small swish of his tail, he slowly turns us around in a 360. He's still got a hold of my arm, but he's dragging me slightly behind him with his trident poised in front of him.

There's something out there. And he's positioning himself to be between me and the threat.

A few seconds go by. I suddenly realize that the sea creatures around us have disappeared. We're alone, in the water.

With a tug on my arm, he's suddenly propelling us towards the ocean floor and to the east of the direction we'd been heading earlier. I try my hardest to keep up, but he's much faster than me and ends up mostly dragging me in the current he leaves behind him. I'm starting to realize now just how much he had been holding himself back when we were swimming earlier. He's like a torpedo, darting through the water at alarming speeds.

I see a shipwreck up ahead. That must be where we're headed.

We shoot through a glassless porthole and down a narrow passageway to what was probably the captain's quarters at one point. Lukianos stops suddenly and releases his hold on my wrist. He begins muttering in a language I don't recognize, with his eyes closed. I watch as the trident begins to shine once more.

He opens his eyes to stare at the trident and his irises are golden, the same gold as the magic that had encircled the wrasses earlier. That gold magic beams up from the trident and seems to stop at the ceiling above us, but I see through the glassless windows in the room as it falls back down in a dome around the outside of the ship.

He's put some sort of force field around the shipwreck. I'm talking Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Battle of Naboo-style force field. I just hope I don't pull a JarJar and screw everything up. I roll my eyes at my own nerdy thoughts.

"Stay here," Lukianos commands. I look over at him as he breaks me out of my thoughts. He's swimming towards the passageway we just came in through.

"Wait, where are you going?" I call out in surprise.

He turns to look at me and his green eyes are now ringed in his golden magic. He blinks once and they're back to normal, before turning back towards the doorway, "I'm going to kill a sea witch."

"And I'm supposed to just wait here, like some helpless damsel in distress?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips. Or what used to be my hips. Do you still have hips if you no longer have legs? Aren't hips the place where your leg bones connect to your pelvis? So if you have a tail, can it still be called a hip?

"Um, yes," Lukianos answers, turning back towards me. He sounds and looks irritated. "You don't have any powers or weapons and you're still learning how to fight, so you're helpless against a powerful and _magical_ sea witch. You are a young woman and I don't see one of those ridiculous gold bands you humans wear to signify your love on your hand, so you're a damsel. And as for distress, well, if you knew the real danger you were in, you'd be very distressed. Since you're new to the sea and its inhabitants, good and evil, you'll just have to trust me when I say that you meeting this particular sea witch- or any sea witch, for that matter- would cause you much distress. And probably a lot of pain. Maybe even death. So, yes, you will stay here and wait for me to come back. I've placed a protective spell over the ship to keep not only the sea witch, but any other creature besides myself from entering. Or leaving."

"Wait, you're keeping me prisoner in here?" I'm outraged and swim closer to him with a glare.

He scoffs, shaking his head, "Out of all of what I said, _that's_ what you're focused on?"

"Hell yeah, that's what I'm focused on! You're locking me in here," I say, enunciating each word. I can hear my voice rising, "You claim this sea witch is so big and scary, what if she kills you and I'm trapped in here forever?"

"I'm not going to die," he claims with an eye roll. "And even if I did, the spell would power down as soon as I was no longer alive to maintain its magic."

"You can't know you're not going to die," I whisper, looking down at my flippers instead of at him.

"Is that what you're worried about?" He asks in a softer voice. From my peripheral vision, I can see him flick his tail softly to propel himself forward and close those last few feet of space. He takes one of my hands in his and squeezes it softly. When I don't look up, he drops it and uses his hand to tilt my chin up until we make eye contact. He smiles gently, "I'm a demigod, remember? I'll be okay. And I'll be back in a few minutes."

With that, he swims back through the passageway we entered through. Off to fight a sea witch.

While I'm stuck here waiting.

I sigh. Floating vertically, the air bubbles stream directly up, instead of crawling along my skin to find the surface. I watch them as they travel upwards and hit the ceiling. The ship is slightly slanted to one side and the bubbles follow the upwards slant, until they reach a crack in the wood and escape.

Lucky bastards.

Even with my newly upgraded ears, I can only hear Lukianos swimming away for a few seconds. I strain my ears, but I can't hear any signs of a fight. I keep my eyes on the golden shield from where I can see it out the window frames. It's my only way of knowing whether Lukianos is still alive.

I pop my knuckles in agitation, a habit I haven't revisited since an ex-boyfriend brought it up as a major turn-off while he was breaking up with me. Irritated with myself, I shake my hands out, as if that would reverse my actions.

Another sigh escapes me. It's only been five minutes maximum and I'm going stir crazy with worry and inactivity. That reminds me of my water resistant watch. I look down at it, but I have no way of knowing if the hands are pointing in the right direction. From this depth, I can't check the sun's position to get a relative time to compare to.

I decide to practice my swimming while I wait, so our travel will be faster and smoother. There isn't much space to swim about, but I could focus on getting used to angling myself with my tail. I practice twisting it in certain ways to see the effects. Small flicks of just my flippers propel me forwards and backwards laterally, without any vertical movement.

I switch to a horizontal position; the way my body is positioned when I'm swimming. It's harder to stay still this way. I have to keep moving forward if I don't want to sink down towards the floor of the room I'm in.

It's interesting to learn these new things. I can't stay still if I'm horizontal. I can only float in one place if I'm vertical.

I'm getting a little dizzy going in circles around this fairly small room. That gives me an idea.

I angle my flippers and twist my shoulders, but keep my tail relatively straight as I propel myself forward. It takes a few minor adjustments, but I successfully manage a spiral.

I come to a vertical standstill, smiling proudly at my accomplishment. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm learning a lot about being a mermaid in a fairly quick amount of time. It's easier to learn all these new things when I'm not maintaining a monotonously straight course with a constant speed.

It's not Luke's fault that we have to keep traveling. Although, I do wonder why he was in the Pacific Ocean if his palace is in the Atlantic. Thinking of him has my eyes wandering to the shield outside. Swimming practice can only keep me occupied for so long.

I swim over to a chair that's laying on the floor besides a a clutter of ruined papers, pick it up and carry it over to place it by the window. With quite a bit of difficulty and error, I manage to get myself into a sitting position, starring out at the golden dome like my life depended on it.

My mind wanders. Is this still considered sitting? What would be the definition of sitting, anyway? I can't imagine that it directly depicts it as the bending of one's legs until one's butt is holding one's weight. Well, maybe it can. I suppose I'll never be able to look it up in Webster's Dictionary without ruining the typed words before I can find the right page.

Well, in Carter's Dictionary, sitting is defined as resting one's weight upon their butt which is perched on another object- whether it be a chair, or a bed, or the floor, etc. Either way, legs are not a deal breaker. In which case, I am sitting.

Something catches my eye and breaks me out of my thoughts. I turn my head to see a sea slug inching along the window sill. It must have been on the outside of the ship when Luke cast his spell and it's now stuck in here with me, inching its way to the other side of the ship that's separated by the window. I fold my arms along the sill and rest my chin on them to watch the small creature make its slow journey.

When it has traveled the length of my elbow to my wrist, it stops and turns its protruding eyes towards me. We stare at each other for a minute, maybe two. Then it turns back and keeps moving forward.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving. I turn just in time to see the last of the golden dome come glittering down to the sea's floor.

The shield is down. The magic is gone.

And that means so is Luke.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm out of my seat in a second, using my grip on the window sill to push myself backwards. My mind is reeling. I might not have known him very long, but Lukianos is the only merperson I know, if merperson is even the correct term. Regardless, I'm alone in this giant ocean with very limited knowledge on my new lifestyle.

And there's a sea witch somewhere right outside this ship.

With a flick of my tail, I push myself into a darkened corner, farthest from the window and the door to the passageway. My heart is racing now and I can't think clearly.

How did this happen? Lukianos was so sure that he'd be fine, so sure that he could defeat the sea witch. If I had gone with him, I might have been able to help by distracting the sea witch. We could have set a trap for her, using me as bait. Or we could have stayed together in this shipwreck and waited out the sea witch under the protective dome he put up.

Anything would have been better than this. Waiting in limbo to see if the sea witch comes for me, all the while feeling the pain of losing my only companion.

Suddenly, I can hear the sound of someone or something approaching. It's a sound I still haven't figured out how to describe, like water is being displaced and it causing ripples to be sent outwards- the swimming equivalent of footsteps. While swimming next to Lukianos, it was a natural sound, but while hiding from a sea witch there's a much more terrifying aspect to it.

It must be the sea witch approaching. Maybe she saw the golden dome and thought Lukianos was hiding something valuable in here or maybe she is just swimming by. I try to hold my breath in anticipation as the sound gets closer to the ship, but I no longer breathe out of my mouth so closing it doesn't stop my gills from working. This somehow makes me more panicky.

Whoever is outside is headed straight for the ship, approaching the side where Lukianos and I entered. I look around desperately for some kind of weapon and my eyes land on a desk leg that's been broken from the rest of the desk and is lying on the floor a few feet in front of me. Right in from of the doorway.

I'm debating whether or not to risk the displacement of water I'll cause if I make a grab for the leg, when I hear the muted thud of something touching the wood of the ship. The thing outside is now making its way inside. And another swish of water tells me it's headed down the passageway towards me. That decides it.

I dart forward, grab the leg and swing it upwards at the intruder, just as they cross the threshold. The leg strikes the intruder under the chin and the force of it sends the intruder back out the doorway and me against the floor of the ship.

I hear a grunt of indignation and look up to see Lukianos rubbing his chin gently.

I push off the floor and propel myself at him, knocking him back a few feet as I tackle him in a hug. Just for the record's sake, this is my first underwater hug and I didn't realize just how easily you can move someone underwater. Without gravity to hold us in place, we dart down the passageway and hit the closed door on the side opposite the room we were just in.

I'm probably choking him with my shoulder, but I don't really care at the moment.

"You're alive, you're alive, you're alive," I chant at full volume. He places a hand on the small of my back, returning the hug. The moment his skin touches mine, I realize two things. One, I've got a practical stranger pinned to the wall as I cling to his neck, fluttering my fins occasionally to keep myself pressed against him. Two, my shirt is not as in-tact as I had assumed before this moment, judging by the large amount of skin-on-skin contact I'm feeling. I'm half naked and all I care about is the fact that this strange man is safe. I lean back and let my hands rest on his shoulders, so I can look him in the eye as I whisper, "You're alive."

"You sound surprised. I told you I'd be okay," he reminds me gently. His eyes scan my face for a few seconds before they meet mine again. "Are you alright?"

"The dome... I thought you were dead," I whisper. I feel the prickling feeling of tears coming on, so I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my forehead on his shoulder. "The golden dome that you put up. You said that it would stay up as long as you were alive to power it. I sat by the window watching it; it was my only way to know if you were okay. As long as it stayed up, you were safe and that meant I was safe and everything would be fine, because we could keep on swimming, like nothing ever happened. I sat and watched it. And it went down. It went down and I thought you were dead. Thought I was all alone in this ship, in this ocean, in this new life," I don't know what I'm feeling most. Anger, fear, and melancholy all war inside of me to claim the spot light, but instead of one winning, they build each other up and tear me down. I'm a mess of emotions and my voice is choked. I'm clinging to him again- my fingernails digging into his back, trying to get him closer. Trying to get close to anyone, to feel comfort, to stop the pain of so many emotions crying out at once. My breath hitches, "I didn't know what to do. And if you were dead that meant the sea witch was still out there. And I heard you swimming toward the ship, but I didn't know it was you, I thought it was the sea witch and I didn't know what to do, because if you couldn't beat her and you're a fucking _god_ , for crying out loud, then how was I supposed to survive? I'm nothing special. It's like you said, I'm useless against her; I don't have any powers. How could I protect myself? I was all alone."

Luke's hand, which was rubbing circles on my back, is suddenly cupping the back of my head. His other arm wraps around my waist and I can feel the cool metal of the trident where it brushes my side. He holds me tight to him.

I can't feel the wetness of tears streaming down my face, but all the other signs of crying are there. My breaths come out as sobs; it's actually a little painful to feel my gills stuttering open and closed, irregularly. I can feel my nostrils flaring and a small headache coming on.

But I eventually start to calm down. And then I also start to get embarrassed. I very carefully loosen my hold on his back, worried that I've broken skin with my fingernails. I let my arms go limp and the muscles ache with exertion.

Lukianos must feel me releasing my hold. He moves his hand away from my head and I start to lean back, but he doesn't let me get far. His arm is still around my waist and the hand that cradled my head now rests between my shoulder blades, keeping me close.

"I am so sorry, astéri mou," he breathes, dipping his head forward to catch my eyes. He looks at me so intently that I can't look away, even though I'm embarrassed of such a huge display of emotion in front of this stranger. I inhale slowly, closing my eyes for a moment to compose myself, as best I can. "I am sorry that you had to go through that fear and pain. And I am sorry that I am the one who caused it. I knew you were upset about being locked in this shipwreck. I only meant to set you free by releasing the spell. I didn't intend to do you harm. I will do everything I can to make this up to, Carter mou."

The hand on my back slides up to my head and he pulls me gently forward, until his lips press softly on my forehead. My eyes flutter shut again and for a moment, we stay like that. Then he pulls back and I raise my head. His hand holds my head so I'm eye level with him and his eyes can search mine, but he must be satisfied with what he finds in them, because he releases his hold on me.

Without his comforting words, I'm embarrassed again. I swim backwards slowly, putting a few feet of space between us and mutter, "I'm sorry for all….that."

"You don't need to apologize, Carter mou," he insists. He starts swimming towards me to close the gap, but I flick the fins on the end of my tail slightly to float backwards a bit more. "Ah, you're learning," he points out, smiling ruefully.

"I tried to distract myself while you were gone. Only lasted about five minutes," I explain, shrugging one shoulder, but still refraining from more than a few seconds of eye contact with him at a time.

He makes a humming sound, almost like clearing his throat, "Well. Nicely done. And don't fret about emotions, Carter. My distant uncle knew a land-dweller, once, who was turned into a merman. Apparently, merfolk have much stronger emotions than humans. It'll be a shock at first and probably hard to keep control of, but eventually, it'll be as natural as before. You'll love deeper, commit longer, rage more righteously. Everything will be heightened, stronger than before. But I'll help you learn to adapt to this new lifestyle," he smiles. "You don't have to do it alone."

"Thank you, Lukianos," I say with force, locking eyes with him meaningfully. "For everything."

He gives me a once over and then winks, "It's been my pleasure, astéri mou."

"About that," I start talking to distract from my blush, but I am genuinely curious. "What language is that? What does it mean? And 'Carter mow,' you said that, too."

He chuckles and his eyes twinkle when he says, "Carter mou. Not mow. Mou. Hear the difference?"

"No, that's the same thing. Carter mow," I insist.

Lukianos laughs again, "Come on, we need to keep going. This detour has taken long enough. We have far to go."

And with that, he swims past me and out of the porthole.

"Lukianos," I say as a complaint, swimming to try to catch up with him. "You totally ignored my question."

He's faster than me and keeps up a steady pace so that he's just barely ahead of me. I groan in frustration. He looks over his shoulder at me for a second. Then he slows, so I can reach his side. My tail muscles and new gills welcome the slower pace.

"You're right and I apologize. I will answer your question," he looks regretful. Well, serves him right. I've been through hell and high waters today, no pun intended, and he's going around talking about me in a different language and won't even tell me which one it is or what he's saying. "Greek."

I shake my head to clear my thoughts, "What?"

"Greek," he repeats. I stay quiet for a few seconds just starring at him in confusion. "You asked me what language I'm speaking, I'm speaking Greek. I am descended from a Greek god after all. And my grandmother was a Greek mortal."

I groan in frustration. "What about the other questions, the more important questions? Like, what were you saying in Greek?"

"How was I supposed to know that was more important to you?" He teases. "You'll never be able to keep up with me if you waste all your energy asking questions. It's my turn, now, anyway."

"Your turn?"

"Hey! No more questions from you, I just told you that it's my turn," is his playful interjection. "Were you upset when you thought I was dead, because you were worried about your safety? About the sea witch coming to get you?"

"Yes," I answer honestly. He turns his eyes from me and speeds up, closing off from me. I try my hardest to keep up, so he'll hear me, "But not only because of that. I was worried about you. I was watching that dome with such intensity, because it was my only way of knowing if you were okay. And when it went down, it felt like my entire world got flipped on its head, for the second time in one day. I didn't know what to think or feel. I didn't know what to do. Only after I heard someone outside, did I think of the danger I could be in." He slows down, but doesn't look at me, yet. We're swimming at a much slower pace now, slower than we've gone before, but my heart is racing.

I can't believe I was so forward with a man- _merman_ \- I met less than 24 hours ago. That reminds me.

"What time is it?" I blurt out, glancing at my broken watch and then upwards, as if I could see the sky even though we must be hundreds of feet below the surface. Maybe thousands.

When I look back down, Lukianos is no longer by my side. I stop swimming and look backwards. He's floating a few feet back, looking at me in confusion. I swim slowly back towards him.

"Do we not need to sleep?" I ask, following that train of thought.

"I must admit, I am very confused," Luke responds, glowering at the sandy ocean floor below us, like it had all the answers and just wouldn't give them to him. "You wish to know the time. And you wish to sleep."

He doesn't pose them as questions, but as deductions he's drawn from my words which he now demands an explanation of. His god-complex is showing.

"I was just trying to estimate how long it's been since the storm, my shipwreck, and meeting you. And then that made me think of how late it was when we first started swimming and that had to have been hours ago. So I was curious to what time it was now. It must be late, but I'm not tired. Do mermaids not need to sleep?" I ask again, half-showing how I arrived at my question and half-repeating in search of the answer.

"Yes, but not as much as humans. We live by the cycle of the moon and the sea, not the sun and the earth," he explains. He floats closer to me and gently grabs my right elbow. He taps my watch with the trident. Both glow golden for just a moment and then the hands of the watch dart around the face until the time reads 2:17. Sunset in the summer in California must be around 8 or 8:30. We couldn't have sat on that beach for more than a half hour after the sunset. Had I really been a mermaid for 6 hours?

"Wow, thanks," I breathe. I look up and am trapped in the magical gold that rings his eyes. "How do you do that?"

"Fix watches?" He asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "You just saw, I used the trident."

"No, your eyes," I explain, swimming a bit closer to watch as the gold flakes disappear. "The gold. Is it on purpose?"

"I don't know what you mean, my eyes are green," he responds, sounding more confused by the moment.

"Oh, I know that," I playfully smack his chest. "The magic stuff. Whenever you do magic, your eyes get this golden ring around the edges of the green. Except when you put up the dome, then your eyes went completely golden. Well, I guess what I mean is there was no green. You still had pupils, but the irises were golden. Hasn't anyone ever told you?"

He shakes his head, "No one's seen me use magic before."

"Wait, what? How? How has no one seen you use magic before?" I start to slowly swim backwards, questioning if he's actually told me the truth. Wouldn't a god be using magic frequently, to help their people or fight sea witches or do godly things, like curse a land with a drought? And after all, I've only known him for- how long? Not long enough. "Did you steal that trident or something?"

"What? No! Don't be preposterous," he thunders, narrowing his eyes at me like I'm some kind of traitor. "This was made for me by my grandfather's hand. It's a gift from a god. I don't use it around just anybody. Magic is sacred and it is intimate. I trained with Poseidon's voice as a guidance; there in spirit, but not in body. I didn't have any need to use magic in Atlantica, where ancient spells and runes, plus scours of guards protect the waters around the palace. I was sent to find that sea witch, my first test of strength and my first need to use my powers and I've been hunting her for many months. To be honest, I have lost track of the time. But it's no matter anymore. You. You helped me find her."

I open my mouth to respond, but can't form any words; he sounds so reverent. It snaps back closed. I repeat the action twice and he chuckles quietly.

"That's a lot to process," I finally get out, blinking at a spot in the distance just over his shoulder. "But I know one thing, I didn't do anything to help find a sea witch."

"Don't you see? Astéri mou…my star," he translates, closing the distance. My eyes flit to his, taken aback by his words. "You have led me to her. I was lost and weary of travel. I had come so far from home and I longed for familiar seas and familiar faces. I was distraught, because I had failed and would have to return home without completing my mission. But then I saw something bright above me, glinting on the surface. I thought it was a star and was excited. The only benefit to my travels that I had found thus far were the new heavens. So many different stars shining brightly in the different skies. I love the stars. The one thing I envy land-dwellers for is their constant access to stars. Yet, you build these triangles you call roofs to block them from your sight," he rolls his eyes and looks irritated for a moment, but then he grabs my elbow like he did just a minute ago to fix my watch.

My heart is racing again, my blood pumping in my ears. His eyes still locked on mine, Lukianos slowly trails his fingers down my arm until they land on my watch. He looks down at it and my eyes follow. His pointer finger traces a circle around the face of the clock, once. Twice. He taps it a few times.

"The star I saw? It was you. A reflection from your watch. The stars aren't just beautiful, Carter, they trace maps across the sky, depict all kinds of stories and speak of prophesies to come," he says softly. I look up to find his eyes already on mine. "You are my star, Carter mou. You led me straight to you. Without the detour of saving you and teaching you to swim, I would have been long gone, before the witch came out of hiding. I never would have completed my quest. And we never would have had the chance to begin our story. There is a prophecy in the stars, that reads as so: 'A star will bring forth the flame in the light bearer and the light bearer will bring forth unity to the seas.' You are the star. And I am the light bearer, as I was named after a saint of light, Lucian. Together, we'll unite the seven seas and bring about peace for our people and the creatures of the sea."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry, what?" My voice comes out shriller than intended.

His eyebrows furrow and the light in his eye fades into confusion. I feel guilty for killing his excitement, but saying I'm overwhelmed would be an understatement after a speech like that.

"You're my star," he reiterates. His voice is steady and intense.

I blush and a small smile starts to turn the edges of my lips up. I watch his eyes dip down to my lips and when he sees my smile, he looks back up at me with a full-blown grin.

"Yeah, I got that part," I tease. He winks and I roll my eyes to hide the way my smile grows. "It's the other stuff. The whole 'rule the world together' thing. That's a bit overwhelming."

"Unite the seas, not rule the world, astéri mou," he corrects me as his hand that was resting on my watch trails back up my arm, until his palm rests on the side of my neck with his thumb brushing across my cheek. I automatically lean into his touch and I'm rewarded with his arm wrapping around my waist to pull me closer.

Something brushes against my tail. I throw my arms around his neck and try to close those last few inches between us to get away from whatever it is. I look over my shoulder and see it's just his trident. I let out a sigh of relief as I turn back towards him.

"Sorry," I breathe out, letting my hands slide back over his shoulders to rest on his chest. I had every intention of releasing him completely, but he's _toned_ and I can't seem to stop myself from touching him.

"No need to apologize," he mutters, eyes flickering down to my lips.

My heart picks up. Warmth floods through my veins. I'm almost positive I can hear his heart beating strong and steady. Then my right hand slips a bit and ends up situated over his heart. I don't hear the thudding anymore, but I can feel it beneath my palm. It's quickening.

He starts to lean in.

"Do mermaids have heightened senses?" I blurt out.

Lukianos jerks backwards with a confused and slightly dejected look. I instantly feel like a jerk. It's not that I don't want to kiss him, but in the big scheme of things, I hardly know this guy. And more importantly, I don't know how to underwater kiss.

"Oh, um, I suppose in comparison with humans, yes they do," he says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Oh, okay," I rack my brain for something less idiotic to say. "Thanks, I just thought I could hear your heart, but I was probably just feeling it under my palm and processing it as a sound or something, I don't know. I'm knew to the whole mermaid thing, so I just thought I would ask."

"You could hear my heart?" He asks, awe lighting up his face again. He's beaming at me now, pulling me even closer than before. He removes his hand from my face and uses it to bring my right palm up to cup his face. His hand stays there, holding mine to his face as he leans into it. Luke's eyes close and he asks, "Can you hear it now?"

For a few seconds of silence, I wonder if he's teasing me. His face stays peaceful and kind, so I decide he's not. Just as I'm about to tell him that I can't hear his heartbeat, because I don't have vampire hearing, I hear a quiet thudding. Concentrating on the sound, I close my eyes to divert all of my attention to only one of my senses: hearing.

Sure enough, I hear a thud-thud, thud-thud. A heartbeat. Luke's heartbeat.

"Oh my god," I exclaim, my eyes shooting open and widening. "I can hear your heartbeat. Is that normal?"

Luke opens his eyes, but keeps my palm pressed to his cheek. "No, it's extraordinary."

My mouth opens, but my mind is reeling and I can't form words. Why can I hear heartbeats and how did I not notice earlier? I close my mouth and shut my eyes, but that just makes his heartbeat stand out more. Not only am I having to adapt to this whole new life as a mermaid, but now I can't even be a _normal_ mermaid.

"I don't understand," I whisper in defeat.

"There's a tale about a Greek woman who fell in love with the god of the sun, Apollo, from afar. Being the sun god, Apollo was charged with driving a chariot across the sky to pull the sun behind it, so he was never in one spot for very long. The mortal woman was content at first to watch the one she loved as he pulled the sun over her village, but eventually she grew upset with the short time she had with Apollo. She prayed to the gods, asking for the ability to follow her love wherever he went. Some of the gods sometimes have a twisted sense of humor; they gave the woman the ability to hear her loved one's heartbeat, so she could find him at all times. The incessant thudding of his heart beat was a reminder that he was out there, at first. Then it became a slight annoyance that kept her up at night, but soon it began to drive her mad. She noticed that there was hardly any sound when he was pulling the sun over her village, but it grew louder the farther he got from her. After weeks of pounding in her head, the mortal woman decided to try following Apollo as far as she could, to ease the pain. She followed him as far as she could, but when she came to the edge of the sea, Apollo- unaware of the woman or her plight- continued without her and the pounding started to grow louder again. She couldn't stand it and charged into the sea to find peace from the noise.

"My grandfather, Posiedon, found her sinking to the ocean floor with her hands clutching her head. He transported her back to land to save her, but she only cried out louder from the throbbing in her head, now amplified by such a large distance instantly placed between her and Apollo. She managed to explain her situation to my grandfather in her distress and he took pity on her. He was able to reverse the curse the other gods had put on her, but seeing as he is god of the sea, his help only worked when she was in the water. Desperate to cure herself, the mortal begged my grandfather to give her the ability to live in the sea with him. She became the first mermaid and later gave birth to my father, Triton. When I was younger, I noticed that my grandmother often had her hand on my grandfather's chest. I asked her about it once and she told me it was the only time she had complete peace. My father claims that the love my grandmother holds for my grandfather for saving her brought the curse back, but in the form of a gift. Her love for him is pure and selfless, so she has the ability to find him anywhere and make sure his heart is beating strong and healthy. If she focuses, she can hear the sound of his heart beating. But when her hand is over his heart, she no longer needs to hear it beating because she's with him; she knows where he's at and that he's safe. Do you hear it beating now?" He asks as he places my hand over his heart.

My mind is still processing his story, but I strain my ears for any thudding.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "What does that mean?"

There's a light in his eye, but he studies me carefully for a moment, "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I-I think so," I answer hesitantly. Then I nod my head, "Yes, I want to know."

"You're in love with me," he announces, his chin lifting proudly.

"I'm _what_?" I ask, pulling myself away from him completely.

His arms drop to his side and his smile falters for a minute, but he quickly pulls himself up to a regal pose with his trident held powerfully at his side. "You're in love with me," he repeats with a dazzling smile.

\"Why, you-you smug, arrogant, cocky, conceited son of a _fish_ ," I yell.

"Most of those were synonyms," he points out, scratching the back of his head. I feel my hands ball into tight fists at my sides and my blood boils. There's a faint thudding in my head and the terrible thing is I don't know if it's my own heartbeat or his. _How dare he?_ "You said you wanted to know. The reason you can hear my heartbeat is because you're in love with me."

Part of me wants nothing more than to punch him in his perfectly sculpted face. The other part of me is barely holding back tears out of embarrassment. It's not possible, right? I just met him. It takes a few days to start developing feelings for somebody and _months_ to fall in love. I mean, he did say merfolk feel emotions more strongly, but that doesn't mean they fall in love in a day, right? And even if I did love him- which I don't, I can't, it's not possible- who is he to assume so and start parading it around like it's only natural that everyone falls in in love with him. I turn away from him, trying to think of something- _anything_ \- to say back.

"Carter," he calls. I hear him swim closer to me, but I don't answer in fear that my voice will betray my emotions. When he talks again, his voice comes from just over my right shoulder, "What's the matter, Carter mou? Why have you turned from me?"

I scoff and roll my eyes, but the anger is mostly to hide my embarrassment at this point. His hand lands lightly on my shoulder.

"You're…embarrassed?" He asks, as if he can read my thoughts. Wait, _can_ he? "There's no need to be embarrassed, astéri mou. You're the second mortal female to be turned into a mermaid, it's only natural that you inherit the gift the first one was also given."

I turn to look at him over my shoulder in surprise, "I'm only the second to be turned? But I thought you said your uncle knew a mermaid, too."

He uses my shock and the hand on my shoulder to spin me back around so I face him, as he says, "You're the second female. We merfolk keep away from humans; we don't turn them often. There have only been four total land-dwellers that were made into merpeople. You make the fifth."

"And none of the mermen can hear other merpeople's heartbeats?" I ask quietly, still embarrassed but trying not to lash out any more.

"They cannot," he affirms. "They can, however, manipulate a small area of water around them. There is one merman I saw who can manipulate water within a 20-foot radius of himself, quite impressive. As far as I know, his powers are the strongest. It makes sense if you think about it. The mermen who used to be land-dwellers were made in the likeness of the first merman, my father and the king of Atlantica, Triton. Being the son of the god of the sea, he has powers to control the oceans. Naturally, any creatures magically created in his image would have influence over the oceans, as well. And this trident was made from one of Posiedon's tridents. Perhaps it's from the very one that transformed my grandmother and it simply remembered the work my grandfather did and mimicked it when I changed you."

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to process this new information. I pinch the bridge of my nose to assuage my oncoming headache and say, "I've learned more about Greek mythology in the past 12 hours than I did in the entire semester of my Greek Mythology class last spring."

"What you call _mythology_ , I call _history_ ," he points out dryly. I look up at him to see if he's truly offended, but he has a good natured smile lifting the edges of his lips.

"So, how does this work?" I ask, motioning between his chest and my head. "Why did it just start and how come I don't hear it right now? Oh, wait, never mind. There it is."

He chuckles softly. "Any time you need peace," he pauses to place my right hand over his heart, holding it there. "That's all you need to do, no questions asked. Now as to your questions… Maybe you just didn't notice it at first with the sensory overload of your transformation. Or maybe it didn't start until you actually fell in love with me."

I narrow my eyes at him and try to pull my hand away, but he won't let me.

He continues, "Either way, it's there now. And from what I've seen of my grandmother, you don't always hear it unless you're trying to. Just a minute ago, you said you couldn't hear it, but then suddenly you could. You must have unintentionally started listening for it. It seems to be a way to track the person whose heartbeat you're hearing. For instance, if we got separated for some reason you could use the gift to try to search for me. The farther you are, the louder it is, so you would swim in what ever direction makes the sound quieter, like a reverse metal detector that humans use on the beach."

"But those get louder when you get closer to the metal," I point out. "It would be easier to know if you were headed in the right direction that way."

"If the noise in your head got louder, wouldn't you swim in the opposite direction?" Lukianos counters.

"Fair enough," I concede, playfully narrowing my eyes. He smirks victoriously at my verbal forfeit. I roll my eyes, "Well, come on. You keep complaining about how far away Atlantica is and we've already made a couple pit stops and detours. We should get going."

"You're absolutely right, agápi mou," he admits. He starts swimming, his hand still wrapped around mine, although luckily not still placed over his heart. That would be an awkward way to swim.

"That's a new one," I point out, looking at him expectantly.

He nods once in affirmation. But he keeps swimming.

"Are you going to tell me what it means?" I ask directly.

He chuckles and pulls me closer to him by the hand so he can kiss my knuckles. The end of my tail brushes his, so he lets me drift back away from him as far as our joined hands allow.

"There's plenty of time to learn to speak Greek," he announces.

"You want me to learn a whole language on the way to Atlantica?"

"No, of course not," he corrects. There's a sly smile on his face when he turns to me and says, "I'm a demi-god and you're a Created mermaid, we're immortals. You'll have eternity to learn Greek."

"Could you be _more_ dramatic with the way you keep springing these things on me?" I ask sarcastically. "I'm immortal?"

"Yes," is his only response.

"Alright, that's…interesting," I draw out. He glances over at me with a slightly worried look. "Eternity, wow. Well, I've never been one to procrastinate, even if I do have forever to get things done now. Teach me Greek!"

"It isn't spoken by very many merfolk, I should warn you that now before you swim in and start speaking a language no one understands," he starts. "Only the royal family and a few of our guard speak it, for confidentiality reasons. All other merfolk speak Mermish."

"Mermish? I have to learn _two_ languages?" I whine.

He laughs a hearty laugh, louder and stronger than anything I had heard from him before. "You're speaking Mermish right now," he explains as his laughter dies down.

"No, I'm speaking English," I say slowly.

"Maybe the transformation rewired your brain to think of Mermish as your natural language, but we are definitely not speaking English. And we haven't been since you woke up on the beach. You sat up and started speaking Mermish like a natural born mermaid," he tells me.

"Huh," is all I can think to say.

He laughs again.

"So, I'm not speaking English right now?" I reiterate for my own sake, trying to actually hear the words I'm speaking, but unable to differentiate from how it sounded when I used to speak English. "How strange."

I can't get my mind around that new fact, but it's better than dwelling on whether or not I love Lukainos.

Just because he saved me by giving me a new life and helped me through my transformation and was understanding in my time of grieving and protected me from a sea witch and comforted me when I had an emotional melt down and is altogether a funny, kind, witty, and _very handsome_ merman, doesn't mean I love him. And now I'm dwelling on whether or not I love Lukainos, again. Fantastic.

I hadn't realized that we weren't talking until Lukianos asks, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I blurt out. Then I realize how suspicious that sounds and try to amend, "I mean, just about the Mermish thing."

He glances at me sideways and I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't press the issue.

Well, isn't that just great. Another thing to add to the list of great qualities that don't necessarily mean I love him, but definitely make it hard not to; he's respectful of private thoughts. The more I dwell on this list, the more I want to kiss him _and_ punch him, at the same time. It's a very confusing situation.

"So, were you wanting to start those Greek lessons?" He asks after a few more minutes of silence. I really need to get out of my head, or he's going to get very suspicious of my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah! Yeah, that would be great," I enthuse. It's time to push all of those other pesky not-loving-Luke thoughts out of my head and focus on learning a new language. "Where do we start?"

"I suppose at the beginning," he says with a one-shouldered shrug. I wonder how he can do that move while swimming and try to mimic it discreetly, but end up veering into his side. He laughs, but kisses the back of my hand before he lets me drift back to my original spot an arm's length away. "Chaírete means hello."

"Kairatay," I repeat.

He chuckles, "We're going to have to work on pronunciation."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: So sorry that it's been so long guys! Summer school, work and an internship. Excuses, excuses. I'll try harder.

Disclaimer: In the last 2 chapters, there was a prophecy and a Greek story. I completely made those up.

Enjoy Chapter 7!

* * *

"Chaírete, tis megaloafs sou. To ónomá mou eínai Carter. Chaíro polý," I struggle to get out. "Was that better?"

I hear a quiet chuckle float out from the clump of seaweed Lukianos disappeared into a few minutes ago. The seaweed begins to sway a bit more violently and then Luke's torso emerges from the green, tangled vines.

"Almost. You made up a word there, though," he says without bothering to hide his amused smile.

"Which one?" I whine. "I thought I did so well."

"It's megaloprepeís."

"That's what I said, tis megaloreps," I argue.

He chuckles, "Wrong again, Carter mou. Listen to how I say it: Chaírete, tis megaloprepeís sou."

I repeat his words and he must be satisfied with my pronunciation, because he disappears once again within the seaweed bed. He's been trying to teach me Greek for almost two weeks now and I still couldn't correctly say 'Hello, your majesties. My name is Carter. It's nice to meet you.' That's supposed to be my opening line to his parents when we finally get to Atlantis. I was hoping to impress them with my Greek, since they're Greek gods, but now I'm worried I'll just embarrass myself by butchering their native language.

"The rest was okay though, right?" I call out, swimming a bit to the right to get a better look at a brightly colored object hiding out in the seaweed.

"Yes, the rest was fine," his voice is a bit muffled. "You know this would go faster if you helped."

I scrunch up my nose in distaste, "I wouldn't know what to do."

I flick my fins to float closer to the seaweed. It's a tiny seahorse, gripping onto one of the vines with his curly tail. I can just barely see him between the seaweed vines as they ripple with the current.

"You could learn," Luke retorts, his voice sounding closer. He must be swimming back out.

"I need to hold what you collect, remember?" I divert. There was no way I was swimming into a bed of seaweed. It looks way too claustrophobic and with my luck, I'd get lost or worse, tangled up and stuck.

Lukianos emerges from the green, a few vines lingering on his tail as he swims out.

"I'm done, anyway," he sighs, the hand free of the trident is holding vines of seaweed. Somehow he's able to hold more in one hand than I'm holding in two.

It wasn't our first meal comprised of seaweed. We had eaten it a few times already, but I was pleasantly surprised by how little we had to eat. I absolutely loved to eat when I was a human and often had more meals than I really needed, but I was still trying to get over the fact that I was eating sea plants, so the less I had to eat, the better.

"See? That didn't take very long!" I enthuse. "And nobody got lost or trapped."

"You wouldn't get trapped, your tail is powerful enough to break the vines. And as for getting lost, you just have to swim up to get out," he lectures with a reproachful look.

I simply shrug my shoulders.

"C'mon," he rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face. He swims past me and I start to follow. "We can eat while we swim."

It doesn't take us very long to eat the edible parts of the vine, since Luke no longer has to pick them out for me, as well as for himself. Dinner is over in about 15 to 20 minutes and then it's back to endlessly swimming in a straight line.

"How much farther do we have to go?" I know I sound like an annoying kid on a road trip, but I'm tired of only swimming all day. It gets pretty boring. We play games like I Spy and 20 Questions to keep us entertained, plus there are the Greek lessons, but those only keep the boredom at bay for so long. The issue with not having to eat or sleep as much is that there's a lot less to break up the monotony of travel.

"If we're quick enough, we should reach the outer waters of Atlantica before the moon is half-full," he answers calmly.

Another thing I learned in the past few weeks, is how to feel the influence of the moon. Merfolk culture revolves around the moon. They use the moon to estimate time when they're too far under water to see the sun and also as their calendar reference, in both instances by feeling the effects the moon has on the oceans.

I have about a 50-50 pass rate at guessing the time of day. Lukainos says that's a great start ad that I'm a fast learner, but he's never met another created mermaid before, so I don't believe him. He's biased, because he's the one teaching me and if I'm doing well that means he's doing a good job as a teacher.

I concentrate on the movement of the current for a few seconds in silence before asking, "That means only a few days, right?"

He chuckles, "Yes, land-dweller, only a few days."

"Hey!" I protest, veering towards him to bump my shoulder against his. "It's hard to adjust to a new culture after almost 20 years of living one way."

He simply shrugs one shoulder, "I suppose it would be hard…for a land-dweller."

I can't help a small smile as I roll my eyes at his antics.

I start to veer into him again, but he twists to the side and wraps his arms around me, so my side is pressed against his chest. His trident presses lightly against my left shoulder blade. Before I have the time to understand what just happened, he's propelling us forward at a speed I could never hope to reach. It feels similar to racing down the freeway with the windows down. I tilt my head up to watch as we race past all kinds of sea creatures, startled by our speed. A laugh (literally) bubbles out of my mouth at the exhilarating feeling.

I feel Luke's answering chuckle vibrate around me and then we're spinning, too. I let out a squeal of delight that turns into another happy laugh as our current whips my hair around to tickle my neck and face. My vision is blocked by a hurricane of hair.

Our spirals start to slow and I feel Luke's arms shift around me until I'm facing him, our torsos pressed together. His arms loosen slightly, just enough for me to pull my arms away from my sides. As soon as my arms are free, he pulls me close to him again and I reach up to loop my arms around his neck as the current pushes against me. His tail brushes mine, but I instinctively match my tail movements to his so I'm not in his way.

My hair settles into it's now-natural stream behind me when our spinning is slow enough, allowing me to meet Luke's eyes. They're boring into mine in the most intense way I've ever seen. He's not just looking at me; he's _seeing_ me.

We finally slow to a stop. I hadn't even noticed his subtle movements, but we're horizontal now. Something about his gaze has me trapped. I'm not even sure if I'm blinking. Or breathing.

My gills surge open to welcome a new batch of oxygenated water. I guess I wasn't breathing. I try to concentrate on slowing my rapid heartbeat, but that triggers my gift. I hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. I let my right hand slide over his shoulder and down his chest slowly until it rests over his heart. I close my eyes.

Silence. A warm peace washes over me, like a hot shower after a day in the show.

A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth slowly, until I'm grinning. My heart is beating normally now.

I open my eyes and move my hand back up to latch onto the other one around his neck. His heart starts beating rapidly and I look up at him, a little concerned. He's much closer than before. And closing the gap.

The closer he gets, the faster his heart races.

I try not to smile and close my eyes in anticipation.

His lips meet mine in an awkward and uncertain peck, at first. He starts to pull away slowly. I do my best to suppress a smile at his timidity and use my hold around his neck to pull him back towards me. I encourage him with a tender kiss on his bottom lip before kissing him fully on the mouth. His response is once again unsure. I nudge my nose against his, softly, and bring one hand up to play with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

That triggers something, because his lips are back on mine with a passion this time. He kisses me hard, but slow. I try to pour my swirl of emotions into my response, matching his intensity as best I can.

One of his hands trails up from my waist to rest between my shoulder blades, pressing me closer to him and reminding me of the embarrassment I felt when he had to fashion a proper mermaid bra for me out of shells and seaweed vines twisted together for strength, because my cloth one was slowly coming apart due to the salt water.

A small giggle bubbles out at the memory of how awkwardly we ignored each other for a few hours after that.

He pulls away from me with a questioning look. I pull him back for one more short, sweet kiss. I let a content sigh out and deliberately watch my hand trace along his jaw line to avoid explaining my giggle. He stays silent though, so I meet his eye as my hands latch behind his neck again.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever kiss me," I tease, giggling softly.

He takes this as the reason for my giggle and kisses me on the forehead. "Believe me, I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

I look down and bite my lip to stop another giggle from slipping out. I listen for his heartbeat to distract myself from the heat pooling in my cheeks and I hear it spike. My eyes flit up to his to see them fixated on my lip, still firmly between my teeth. I release it, suddenly extremely shy.

His eyes flicker up and mine go round. His irises are pure gold again, like in the shipwreck.

"Lukianos, your eyes," I whisper.

Suddenly, what little light is able to filter through from the surface is completely gone and we're in dark waters. Luckily, my new mermaid eyes can adjust to the lack of light. I look around us to see we're in an underwater building. There's one door that I can spot just over Luke's shoulder and a king-sized bed in the middle of the room that I can just barely see when I crane my neck to look over my own shoulder.

"Um," I look back at him awkwardly.

"That wasn't me," he blurts out, his eyes- now green, again- as wide as saucers. He blinks once and then hangs his head slightly, "I mean it was, but it wasn't on purpose, I swear."

We float there in silence for a few seconds, awkwardly still holding onto each other.

Then I start laughing. I pull away and float over to sit on the bed, my hand pressed to my mouth in a failed attempt to hold back my laughter.

I look up at him for a moment and see his eyes filled with confusion, but I can't stop laughing. His confusion slowly turns to amusement and I can see him fighting to hold back a smile. Pretty soon he's laughing along with me.

He floats over to the bed, but sits about a foot and a half away from me.

"I honestly don't know how this happened," he admits when we've calmed down. He uses his trident to scratch the back of his head lightly, which I'm coming to realize is a sign of embarrassment or nervousness for him. He manages to look me in the eye for a few seconds only, "You aren't mad?"

I scoot myself a little closer to him so I can lay one hand on his arm, a comforting gesture. I let one side of my mouth slide up in a small smirk, "No, I'm not mad. A little flattered, actually."

His surprised eyes meet mine in a heartbeat. I watch as his eyes shift from one of mine to the other, searching for something. He smiles brightly.

"Okay," he says with that grin. I laugh a little.

"Okay," I repeat, nodding my head like we've reached some kind of agreement. I let my hand slide down his arm until my fingers lace with his, then I use my hold to pull him off the bed with me. "Now undo your little love shack so we can hit the road, Jack."

His eyebrows knit together and a small frown clouds his features. "My name is Lukianos, not Jack," he mutters sadly.

I giggle at his naivety of human pop culture, but use our joined hands to drag myself close enough to kiss his cheek. My free hand rests on his broad shoulder to keep myself pressed close to him when I say, "It's just a reference to a human song, Luke. Actually there were two references there, but that's besides the point. The point is I know your name, you silly merman."

"Oh," he replies, looking slightly unsure of himself now.

I place another kiss on his cheek to reassure him and then lightly trail my hand from his shoulder down his bicep, over the tendons in his forearm and between the knuckles of his fingers until my hand is wrapped around his. I lightly swivel his hand, drawing his attention to the trident we're now waving around together.

"Oh, right. Undo the love shack," he nods.

I watch with an amused smile as gold encircles the outer rim of his irises and then slowly ebbs away. When I glance over his shoulder, we're back in open waters. I meet the eyes of a very startled looking mackerel, who darts away after a moment of stillness.

A tug on my hand has me swimming again at Luke's side. We swim for a few moments in silence before I finally gain the courage to speak.

"So, I'm not normally one of those girls who demands the guy to DTR, like, right away, but I am new to this whole merfolk culture and these heightened mermaid emotions and I don't really know how you guys do things down here." I'm able to keep my voice relatively even, but I quickly realize how vague my words are. If I'm going to ask him to be straight forward with me, I need to be straight forward with him. I close my eyes for a second to steel my nerves and when I open them again I let my words stream out unabated, "I mean, is it like a date thing or a courtship thing? I guess what I just really wanna know is what that was to you, ya know? Like, what does this mean for us? What are your expectations of me now, just so we're on the same page?"

I feel my throat close up a little bit as anxiety courses through my veins.

"I'm sorry," he starts. My heart plummets. He's going to say it meant nothing. I should have just kept my mouth shut."But what exactly is DTR?"

My heart beats a little faster. Not an outright rejection, maybe there's still hope. He turns his head to look at me and he just looks confused.

"Oh, it's a stupid modern lingo thing," I explain, a little embarrassed. I deliberately stare straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. "It means define the relationship."

"Ah," he makes that humming sound again, the underwater equivalent of clearing your throat. "Well, I thought that was obvious, astéri mou. The prophecy is coming true and I thought our most recent actions would be proof of my intentions to fulfill that prophecy."

It's my turn to knit my eyebrows together in confusion. "Yeah, but the prophecy just said that I'd set you on the right course and you'd unite the seas. I don't understand," I admit.

He uses his hold on my hand to slowly pull me towards him, but this time he somehow manages to situate me so I'm swimming under him. His arms wrap around me from behind, the fingers in his right hand intertwining with those in my left and his left hand guiding mine to wrap around his trident so that our fingers overlap around the metal. His heart beats steadily against my back. I feel his lips press softly on my bare shoulder before his chin rests softly where his lips had just been.

"Then let me explain it to you, Carter mou," he suggests. "You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. You are the most important thing in my life. You are the only thing that matters right now and forever. I will do whatever I have to do to keep you by my side for the rest of our eternal lives. I will always keep you safe. I will do anything to make you happy. I will always put you before anyone else, including myself and my kingdom. And everyday I will strive to be the man that you deserve, because you deserve nothing but perfection. I am completely enamored with you. And someday, whether that day is in a few weeks or a few centuries, I am going to marry you and we'll rule Atlantica together as King and Queen of the sea."


End file.
